Chapter 203 Taking Saintess Ceanna And Escaping

As Alaric soared through the sky, the Demon Fortress shrinking rapidly beneath them, he steered them towards the staging grounds where the remaining forces of the Eloriath Kingdom were gathered. He could see the worried faces of the soldiers, the anxious whispers among the lesser mages and knights who had yet to receive the order to advance. The earlier reports of teleported units and the lack of communication from within the fortress had already sown seeds of unease among them.

‘There they are,’ Alaric thought, spotting the familiar banners of the Eloriath Kingdom. He descended slowly, the Azure Spirit Lion’s power still thrumming faintly within him, making his landing a smooth, almost ethereal glide. He touched down gently in the midst of the assembled forces, Lyra and Cassandra still nestled securely in his arms.

A wave of surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd. They recognized Alaric, the Grandmaster Mage who had played a crucial role in their defense. But their surprise quickly morphed into confusion as they saw the Saintess, Ceanna, standing near King Thaleon, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of shock and concern as she took in the sight of Alaric’s return, accompanied by Lyra and Cassandra in such a possessive manner.

King Thaleon, his brow furrowed with worry, stepped forward. “Master Steele! What has happened? What is the situation inside the fortress?”

Alaric, still holding Lyra and Cassandra, felt a slight pang of annoyance at the King’s question. ‘Honestly, can’t he see I’m a bit occupied here?’ The presence of his mother and aunt on either side did make the situation a little… complicated if he wanted to bring Ceanna into the fold right now. He’d have to carry her.

Before Saintess Ceanna could voice her own questions, her expression a mixture of apprehension and a hint of the anger he’d sensed before, Alaric took decisive action. Ignoring the King’s inquiry for the moment, he stepped forward, still holding Lyra and Cassandra, and reached out, grabbing Saintess Ceanna’s hand firmly.

“We have to leave,” Alaric said urgently, his voice cutting through the murmuring crowd. “Now. Fly. Escape!”

A collective gasp of disbelief and shock swept through the assembled forces of the Eloriath Kingdom. Soldiers exchanged bewildered glances, knights gripped their weapons uncertainly, and even the lesser mages looked utterly dumbfounded. What was Alaric saying? Fly away? Escape? They hadn’t even fully committed their forces to the assault yet.

Saintess Ceanna, her golden eyes flashing with anger, tried to pull her hand away from Alaric’s firm grip. “Master Steele! What are you saying? What is the situation inside? Why would we flee?” Her voice rose slightly, tinged with both fear and indignation.

Alaric held her hand tighter, his gaze intense and unwavering. He turned to address not just Ceanna but the entire assembled force. “Listen to me! What I saw inside… it was a slaughter. Our forces are being decimated. The Archdemons… they are far more powerful than we anticipated. Even the Archmages and Martial Kings… the last I saw, they were being overwhelmed. One of the Martial Kings has already fallen! We need to retreat. Now! If we don’t, none of us will survive!”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of grim reality. King Thaleon’s face paled visibly, his earlier worry now replaced by a stark fear. He looked at Alaric, his eyes searching for any hint of deception. “Master Steele… are you certain of this? The Archmages… defeated?”

‘He doesn’t want to believe it,’ Alaric thought, a hint of impatience creeping into his mind. ‘Stubborn fool. I don’t have time for this.’

Saintess Ceanna, her initial anger giving way to a dawning horror, stared at Alaric, her hand still clasped in his. “But… the Radiant God… surely he would not allow such a catastrophe?” Her voice was filled with a desperate plea for reassurance.

Alaric snorted softly, a hint of cynicism in his tone. “The Radiant God doesn’t seem to be doing much for the poor souls being torn apart inside that fortress right now, does he? Look, I’m not going to stand here and argue. I saw what I saw. We need to get out of here while we still can.” He tightened his grip on Ceanna’s hand, his gaze sweeping over the assembled forces. “Those who wish to live, follow me. Those who want to become demon fodder, by all means, march right in.”

His blunt words and grim pronouncements caused a palpable wave of fear and uncertainty to ripple through the ranks. The soldiers, who had been prepared for a difficult battle, were now faced with the terrifying prospect of utter annihilation. The lesser mages, who had been eager to prove their worth, exchanged frightened glances. Even the seasoned knights, their faces usually stoic, showed signs of apprehension.

King Thaleon’s mind raced. He had trusted his advisors, his generals, the Archmages themselves, who had assured him that while the assault would be challenging, victory was within their grasp. Now, Alaric Steele, a mage of immense power who had proven his loyalty to the kingdom, was telling them a completely different story – a story of utter defeat and impending doom. He had no reason to lie, not at this moment. The sight of Alaric returning so quickly, carrying his mother and aunt, and his urgent warning… it all painted a grim picture.

Saintess Ceanna, her face pale and drawn, looked at Alaric, then towards the ominous Demon Fortress looming in the distance. Her faith in the Radiant God was strong, but the fear instilled by Alaric’s words was undeniable. Could it be true? Could their valiant forces, led by the most powerful mages and warriors in the kingdom, truly be facing defeat? The thought was almost unbearable.

The other commanders and nobles present began to murmur among themselves, their faces etched with worry and confusion. Some looked towards King Thaleon, awaiting his command.

Others stared at Alaric, trying to gauge the truth in his words. There was a palpable tension in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier anticipation and battle fervor. Doubt had been sown, and it was spreading rapidly through the ranks of the Eloriath Kingdom’s remaining forces.

They were caught in a terrible dilemma – to trust the initial battle plan and march into what Alaric described as a slaughterhouse, or to heed his warning and retreat, potentially abandoning their comrades already fighting inside. The weight of the decision pressed heavily upon King Thaleon’s shoulders.

~~

Alaric didn’t wait for King Thaleon or the other bewildered commanders to make a decision. Time was of the essence. Every moment they lingered, more of their comrades inside the Demon Fortress were likely perishing. With Lyra and Cassandra still securely nestled in his arms, their blonde hair whipping in the wind, Alaric reached out and firmly grasped Saintess Ceanna’s delicate hand.

“Come, Saintess,” Alaric said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you to safety.” He began to ascend, lifting Ceanna off her feet along with his mother and aunt.

Lyra and Cassandra, though they usually enjoyed any physical contact with Alaric, refrained from their usual affectionate rubbing and nuzzling. They understood the delicate situation with the Saintess and Alaric’s intentions towards her. A public display of their intimacy with him right now would likely be counterproductive.

As they soared into the sky, leaving the stunned faces of the remaining Eloriath Kingdom forces behind, Alaric had a choice. He could easily have used his magic to allow Lyra, Cassandra, and Ceanna to fly alongside him, creating individual currents of air for them to ride. But he didn’t. He wanted them close, their bodies touching his. It was a primal urge, a need for physical connection that fueled his own magic and provided him with a sense of control and possession.

They flew swiftly, leaving the chaotic battlefield far behind. Alaric steered them directly towards the Steele Family’s territory, his mind already racing. His ancestral lands were now vulnerable, with the main fighting force of the kingdom engaged or likely destroyed. He needed to prepare defenses, gather any loyal retainers, and ensure the safety of his family’s holdings.

He glanced at Saintess Ceanna, who was still looking pale and shaken, her golden eyes filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Saintess,” Alaric began, his voice calm despite the urgency of their flight, “what about your Radiant God’s country? Would they send aid to the Eloriath Kingdom in this dire situation?”

Ceanna shook her head slowly, her silver hair swaying in the wind. “I… I don’t know, Master Steele. Their country is vast, and the journey to the Eloriath Kingdom is long. I doubt they could arrive in time to make a significant difference in this battle.” Her voice was heavy with despair. “My only hope is that the local populace can somehow withstand the demonic onslaught.”

The journey to the Steele Family mansion was swift. Alaric landed gracefully in the courtyard, setting Lyra and Cassandra gently on their feet before turning to assist a still somewhat bewildered Ceanna.

As the Matriarch of the Steele Family, Lyra immediately took charge. “We must make our guest comfortable,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming despite the gravity of the situation. She directed the household staff to prepare a suitable chamber for Saintess Ceanna, ensuring it was both luxurious and private.

Alaric, as the young master of the Steele Family, had the entire estate at his disposal. He could choose any room, any part of the grounds, as his own. Cassandra, still feeling the lingering aches from her battle with the Crimson Barbarian Demons, retired to her own chamber to rest and recuperate.

Later that day, as Cassandra was resting, her daughter Fiora, a bright and energetic young woman, came to visit her. “Mother! I heard about the battle! How did it go? Was Cousin Alaric alright? And Aunt Lyra?” Fiora’s eyes were filled with concern.

Cassandra smiled reassuringly at her daughter, carefully choosing her words. “The battle was… difficult, dear. There were many strong demons. But Alaric was incredible, as always. He protected us all. And Lyra is fine, just a bit tired.” Cassandra skillfully avoided mentioning her and Lyra’s intimate relationship with Alaric, knowing that Fiora wouldn’t understand and it was a secret they intended to keep.

In the days that followed, grim news began to trickle in from the few survivors who managed to escape the decimated battlefield. The stories they told were horrifying – tales of Archdemons of immense power, of the fall of mighty Archmages and valiant Martial Kings, and of the overwhelming might of the Nightmare Legion. The main force of the Eloriath Kingdom, the pride of their military, had been utterly destroyed. Small pockets of survivors were scattered and on the run, desperately trying to reach safe havens.

Then came another piece of news, this one even more shocking and unexpected. Reports arrived stating that forces from the Radiant God’s nation had suddenly appeared in three of the Eloriath Kingdom’s most valuable cities – Oakhaven, Silverwood, and Port Azure. They had swiftly taken control of these strategic locations, bolstering the defenses and assisting the reigning Noble Families in resisting the demonic attacks that had begun to spread beyond the fortress.

When Saintess Ceanna heard this news, she was visibly stunned. Her golden eyes widened in disbelief. “But… how? Their country is so far away. They shouldn’t have been able to arrive so quickly.”

As she pondered this, a chilling realization dawned upon her. A dark suspicion began to form in her mind. Could it be? Had they known about the demon invasion all along? Perhaps… perhaps this was not an act of selfless aid, but a carefully orchestrated ruse. Maybe the Radiant God’s nation had anticipated the demon attack and had deliberately waited until the Eloriath Kingdom’s forces were weakened before swooping in to take control. Perhaps they were using the demon invasion as a means to gain power and influence over the Eloriath Kingdom.

The weight of this realization crashed down upon Saintess Ceanna, leaving her feeling deeply betrayed and profoundly depressed. The unwavering faith she had held for so long in her deity and his nation began to waver, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease and suspicion.

Alaric noticed the change in Ceanna’s demeanor. He saw the sadness in her golden eyes, the slump in her shoulders, the way she seemed lost in thought. He knew that her faith, a cornerstone of her being, had been shaken.

‘This is it,’ Alaric thought, a predatory gleam in his ruby eyes. ‘She’s vulnerable. The time is coming to finally make this beautiful Saintess mine.’ He watched her carefully, already formulating his next move.

~~

Alaric knew that moments of despair and disillusionment were the most fertile ground for planting new seeds. Saintess Ceanna was clearly shaken by the news of the Eloriath Kingdom’s devastating loss and the suspicious actions of her own deity’s nation. He wouldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

‘Now is the time,’ Alaric thought, a predatory glint in his eyes. ‘She’s questioning everything she believed in. A little nudge in the right direction, and she’ll be mine.’ He rose from his seat in the main hall of the Steele mansion, where they had been discussing the grim news, and approached Ceanna, who was sitting quietly by a window, gazing out at the sprawling family lands with a troubled expression.

“Saintess Ceanna,” Alaric said softly, his voice gentle and concerned. “Would you care to take a walk with me? The fresh air might clear your mind.”

Ceanna looked up, her golden eyes meeting his. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that Alaric hadn’t seen before. She nodded slowly. “Yes, Master Steele. I believe a walk would be… beneficial.”

Alaric offered her his arm, and she took it hesitantly. He led her out into the manicured gardens of the Steele estate, away from the ears of the other members of his family and the remaining retainers. As they strolled along a secluded path, surrounded by fragrant flowers and ancient trees, Alaric began to speak, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“Saintess,” he began, leaning closer so only she could hear his words, “I have something… something rather extraordinary to confess to you. Something I have never told anyone before in this world.”

Ceanna looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “What is it, Master Steele?”

Alaric paused, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself for a difficult revelation. “I… I have memories. Memories of another life. A life from another world. It’s… hazy, fragmented, but I know it to be true. I am a transmigrator, Saintess. I was not born in this world.”

Ceanna’s eyes widened in shock. She stumbled slightly, her grip tightening on Alaric’s arm. “Another world? You… you are not from here?”

Alaric nodded solemnly. “It sounds fantastical, I know. But it is the truth. And when I arrived in this world… I received something akin to a system. A… a power that allows me to help those around me become stronger.” He carefully crafted the details, drawing on his knowledge of various stories and legends from his past life. “It’s through this system that my mother and aunt have gained such… remarkable strength. Even my cousin Fiora has benefited from it.”

Ceanna stared at him, her mind reeling. The heretical energy she had sensed within Cassandra and Lyra… it all suddenly made sense. It wasn’t inherently evil, but it was undeniably… different. It must be this “system” that Alaric spoke of, a power that bypassed the traditional methods of cultivation and divine blessings.

‘So that’s it,’ Ceanna thought, a strange mix of shock and understanding washing over her. ‘That explains the… unusual aura around them. This system… it’s not inherently malicious, but it’s certainly… unorthodox.’

“This system…” Alaric continued, his voice dropping even lower, “it has allowed me to achieve great power, to protect those I care about. But lately… I have begun to notice its limitations. The demons… they are a force unlike anything I have ever encountered. I fear that my system alone may not be enough to stand against them if they continue their advance.”

He stopped walking, turning to face Ceanna directly, his ruby eyes filled with a desperate plea. “Saintess Ceanna… I believe that my system… it needs a focal point. A… a conduit for its power to reach its full potential. And I believe… I believe that you are that conduit.”

He took both of her hands in his, his touch sending a strange warmth through her. “Your connection to the Radiant God… it is a source of immense power, I can sense it. But perhaps… perhaps that connection is limiting you. Perhaps… you could become something even greater. The Saintess… of my system.”

In his thoughts, Alaric’s understanding of his Harem God System was evolving rapidly. He was beginning to grasp that it wasn’t just a simple tool for personal gain. It felt ancient, powerful, almost… divine. It was a force that seemed to tap into the very fabric of reality, a power that the gods themselves might wield to shape the world.

‘If that’s true,’ Alaric mused, ‘then having a Saintess… a direct link to this power… it could be immense. Not only would it weaken the Radiant God’s influence in this world, but it would elevate my own standing, the authority of my system, to a whole new level.’

Ceanna was utterly stunned by Alaric’s proposition. Her mind raced, trying to process the outlandish confession and the even more unbelievable offer. Break her connection with the Radiant God? Become the Saintess of some… system? It was heresy, utter blasphemy. Yet… Alaric’s words resonated with a strange, unsettling truth. She had felt a growing unease about the Radiant God’s actions, the suspiciously timed arrival of his forces.

‘Should I… should I even consider this?’ Ceanna thought, her heart pounding in her chest. The very idea was terrifying, yet… intriguing.

Alaric, still holding her hands, subtly increased the flow of energy from his Harem God System towards her. His charm, already potent, was amplified by the system’s influence. He also subtly employed his Heart’s Whisper technique, planting gentle suggestions in her mind, making them feel like her own thoughts.

‘The Radiant God… has he truly been looking out for us?’ a small voice whispered in Ceanna’s mind. ‘Or has he merely been using the Eloriath Kingdom as a stepping stone, a means to expand his own dominion?’ The thought felt strangely natural, as if it had been brewing within her for a long time.

Other thoughts followed, each one a subtle seed of doubt about the Radiant God and a burgeoning curiosity about Alaric. ‘He is powerful… undeniably so. And he is here, with me, offering me a different path. A path where I might have more control, more understanding.’

Compared to the distant, seemingly manipulative Radiant God, Alaric felt… present. Warm. His touch sent shivers down her spine, a sensation that was far more tangible and immediate than any divine inspiration she had ever felt.

The venomous thoughts against the Radiant God continued to surface in her mind, fueled by Alaric’s subtle influence. She remembered the countless prayers that had gone unanswered, the feeling of being a mere puppet in a grand, cosmic game. Alaric, with his strange system and his even stranger confession, offered an alternative, a chance to forge her own destiny. And somehow… that prospect was becoming increasingly appealing.